


A Momentary Act Of Kindness

by Cabbagiez



Series: The Seax [1]
Category: High Noon Over Camelot - The Mechanisms (Album), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Acts of Kindness, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Dehydration, Exhaustion, Fear of Death, Galahad can't speak for a lot of it, Galahad needs a hug, Gen, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Pre-Canon, Starvation, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29726385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cabbagiez/pseuds/Cabbagiez
Summary: Far away from Camelot, deep within the wastes, young Galahad was dying.Long before Galahad arrived in Camelot, before the Siege Seat, before any of it- a single act saved his life and fueled his dedication.
Series: The Seax [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184738
Kudos: 9





	A Momentary Act Of Kindness

Far away from Camelot, deep within the wastes, young Galahad was dying. He laid beside the embers of a once roaring campfire, not able to gather the strength to rekindle it and stave off the darkness. The preacher’s body ached, though he had long since grown numb to that pain- it was the agony in his stomach that was unbearable. No tears were shed, he didn’t have enough water in his body to do that, but as Galahad imagined the face of his great aunt, who had tried so hard to protect him from cruelty, a broken, weak sob came from his throat. The only noise aside from whimpers and panting he had made in days.

There was a sound that didn’t match the station’s ambiance, or what little noise came from Galahad’s camp. Then another. His addled mind didn’t recognize them as footsteps until the movement stilled, and what little firelight he had left reflected off the telltale blade of a Saxon. His breath hitched, though fear could no longer claw its way through the exhaustion and pain permeating his mind. Silence. Then the one near him spoke.

“It’s a small camp,” she said, addressing members of her group that Galahad could not see. “I can search it myself.”

At the sound of more footsteps leaving, a thought pulled itself from the muck of Galahad’s dying mind.  _ Did she see me? _

That question was answered once the rest of the Saxons were gone. “Upworlder,” she said, and knelt beside him. “Can you hear me?”

He hadn’t the strength to speak, or to do much for that matter, but he willed his fingers to tap against the rusty ground. Praying she understood the signal.  _ Yes, I can hear you, yes, please God please Lord let her understand please please please- _

“Good,” she replied, gently. There was a shuffling sound, and something being set down. Then, something was brought to Galahad’s lips. “Drink, slowly.”

He opened his mouth, letting the cool- in comparison to everything else -water flow down his throat. He had never had  _ pure _ water before, the taste sending a wave of emotion through him. It was bliss. 

But, she removed the waterskin painfully soon. “Slowly,” she repeated. “You’ll poison yourself if you drink too fast.” Galahad got the sense she was speaking from experience. “Have you eaten?” She asked.

He only barely shook his head, but she understood.

“I will give you more, Upworlder, then I will make you food. You will eat more, and drink more, and you  _ will  _ make it through this night,” the Saxon said, with such determination that Galahad couldn’t help but believe her. If he could have, he might have cried- he hadn’t felt such care and kindness in a very long time. 

She waited- seconds or minutes, it felt like an eternity to Galahad regardless -before bringing the waterskin to his lips yet again. Again she allowed him to drink, letting him take slow sips of that all-important liquid. The previous amount had allowed Galahad to regain some of his self-control, and it was him this time who turned his head away after not long had passed. 

The Saxon turned to the fire afterward, fanning it- reviving it in a way not unlike how she was pulling Galahad from the brink. The preacher could only see fragments of her face in the new low light, much of her still wrapped in shadow, but what he could see painted a kind picture. 

She… Well, Galahad hesitated to say anyone looked motherly, on account of not knowing very many mothers, but if anyone fit that description it was her. She looked like a warrior, too. Someone who would fight to keep her family safe. The Saxon’s eyes held the same severity, and kindness, that Galahad recalled from his own aunt, as well. Any more detail was impossible to glean, and even what was visible slowly muddled back into a blurry mess- occasionally coming back again, but otherwise gone. 

The smell of meat cooking hit his senses like a brick. Renewed hunger flooded his mind, though his body couldn’t show it. The preacher man made a gaspy, desperate noise, and the Saxon returned it with a noise of her own- a soft hum, placing her rough hand on Galahad’s forehead. “It won’t take long,” she soothed, gently petting his hair as if he was her own child. He tried to speak, but was gently hushed. “Don’t drain your strength, Upworlder,” the woman murmured, “you will need it in the morning.”

He nodded, keeping his brown eyes on her to stave off the exhaustion creeping into his mind. To sleep now would be a death wish, and Galahad’s urge to live had been reawakened by the Saxon woman. He still had a life to live. “More?” She asked, raising the waterskin. Galahad nodded, opening his mouth to drink. He still felt parched, but it was slowly fading- and this time when she pulled the water away he managed a small smile. 

The pan- Galahad’s pan -where the meat was cooking was taken off the fire, and the Saxon gently moved the meal from it to a bowl. She scrubbed her hands clean with a cloth, tearing the meat into chunks. Then, she considered, and searched through his belongings- discovering a fork. Spearing a chunk with it, the woman brought it to Galahad’s mouth, feeding it to him gently. 

For a moment he feared he wouldn’t have the strength to chew, but that seemed unnecessary- the rendered meat falling apart with ease. The taste was hearty, and completely overwhelming. As Galahad swallowed the first thing he had eaten in a very long time, again he felt he might cry. It was delicious, it was  _ perfect. _

“Slowly,” She cautioned again, before offering him another piece. It was gone within seconds. She shook her head, pausing to give Galahad more water. He would live. With each bite, each drink, she grew more confident that this Upworlder would live- but she had no way to know if he would  _ survive _ after the night was over. Something would have to be done, but for now all that mattered was this. 

Another piece, the last piece. This one took longer, Galahad savoring it with a smile. He was still hungry, very hungry, but knew if he ate more he would fall ill, and it would be for naught. So instead he relaxed, opening his eyes more to again look at his savior. “Thank… thank you,” he croaked out, his voice still sore and raspy.

She hummed in response, again putting her hand on his forehead. He was cooler now, his forehead now slightly damp. A very good sign.

The preacher took a breath. “Why?” He asked, after a little more silence.  _ Why did you help me? I was damned. Why save me? _

“I knew I could,” was her reply, and that was enough. There was more to it, of course- details that he would never know, such as her child waiting for her in the depths -but that didn’t matter. She knew she could save him, so she had to try. A soft laugh came from Galahad.

“Bless you,” he whispered, then yawned. He was still unsure if he would wake up should he rest, but the anxiety over it was gone. 

“I will stay until you fall asleep,” the Saxon decided. She brought the flame down to a more manageable level, and moved to sit beside him more. The last thing he saw before drifting off was her lined face in more detail than before- able now to see her misshapen nose and other finer features. Galahad smiled yet again, saving it in his memory.

* * *

When he awoke, she was gone. The preacher looked around his camp, scarcely believing that he was still here. For a moment he thought it had all been a dream, until the glint of metal caught his eye. He looked to find a bundle, a Seax blade resting atop it. With tears pricking the corners of his eyes, Galahad took the knife, balancing it in his hands. It wasn’t quite right, but it felt comfortable enough. “Thank you,” he murmured, putting it in his pack. Then he opened the bundle.

Food.  _ Food. _ The kind of meat he had eaten the night before, and other items he had never seen. An incredible show of generosity. And…

“That can’t be right,” Galahad said aloud, picking up the waterskin. Not believing what it could be, he opened it and took a sip. “Oh, oh, bless your soul!” He declared, closing it hastily and finding the strength to jump up. The Saxon had not only given him one of her knives- which alone would have been generous. She had not only given him food, either. She had given Galahad the most precious resource known to man.

_ Pure. Water. _

Tears flowed freely for the first time as he fell to his knees, first thanking the Lord, then correcting himself and thanking her. His savior.

“A momentary act of kindness has let this ol’ preacher man live another day,” he declared. “I only hope I can repay her one day.” Then, an idea. A place he could go. To find his father, and to find other souls who so desperately needed the kindness he had been shown.

Galahad stood, and set out for Camelot.

**Author's Note:**

> I started this on a whim because I was just absolutely gripped with the need to put this out there! Hope y'all enjoy!


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